


Watches

by KnightAniNaberrie



Series: Fluffy February [4]
Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: A little less fluffy than the others, F/M, Reunion, Sort Of, Watches because watches are cool, actually mentions 84, and they’re totally going to have meaning here, fluffy february, it’s more of an overview, wondertrev
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightAniNaberrie/pseuds/KnightAniNaberrie
Summary: “Isn’t that mine?”“Maybe.”Steve Trevor appears in Diana’s living room. It’s not an immediate adjustment back to normal.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Steve Trevor
Series: Fluffy February [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139504
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	Watches

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4! This.. was interesting. I backed myself into a corner on whether or not to include 84. The prompt was meant to be fluffier than this is, and this is actually more of a teaser of a longer plot idea I’ve been toying with, so. Let’s call this a vague test run.
> 
> Also, I know it’s early, but y’all have been so nice with all of these! Please know I love and appreciate every one of you!
> 
> Disclaimers: I know next to nothing about DCU. I saw WW84 ONCE at a drive-in. Canon knowledge is far from perfect.

She was halfway to work before she realized she’d picked up and pocketed his watch while forgetting her own.

In her defense, it hadn’t exactly been a calm weekend. A man who had been dead for nearly a century - save for a brief interlude thanks to a magic rock - appearing in her living room with a literal smoking gun and immense confusion over not being in a million tiny burning pieces was surely enough to frazzle anyone, Diana included. She was at a loss, not able to think of any artifacts that could be blamed this time around.

Steve, who seemed to know even less than she did, had spent most of the first night in a mild state of shock over the whole not dead, hey it’s 2017 thing. The last thing he remembered was pulling the trigger to blow up the gas, the last fully coherent memory at least. It seemed there were bits and pieces of 1984 lingering in his mind, more like a dream than a lived-through reality, and she didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t know what to make of any of it, actually.

There had to have been a reason, someone or something to point a finger to and either curse or thank. While many things in this world seemed to occur without purpose, resurrection (or time travel or deceit or or _or_ ) was not one of them. There had been consequences the first time around, and more than likely there would be again.

But she didn’t know for sure, anything it seemed. She thought she wanted to keep close to normal, as if that would somehow help if..

If it was only temporary. If she would lose him again. Maybe it would be more permanent, maybe they’d have more time. Or maybe they wouldn’t, not the way she wanted it. Maybe it would just be one more week to add to their depressingly small amount of hours. And did she really want to waste any of that sitting in an office blocks away, trying and failing to pretend the world felt the same as it did yesterday?

No. No she did not.

So Diana did something she tried not to do very often; she gave up. Stopped dead in the street, turned around, and walked back to her apartment, texting her assistant along the way to let him know she wouldn’t be in that day - and probably not tomorrow either.

She made it back in record time, bypassing the elevator in favor of almost jogging up the stairs, nervous energy getting the better of her.

The kitchen table was cluttered with stuff, none of which had been there when she’d walked out the door barely half an hour ago. A notepad, pen, and several crumpled up sheets of paper took up the majority of the space, with a few silver wrappers mixed in between. A blanket was lying more on the floor than on one of the chairs, and there were three different cups that, if she had to guess, contained three different drinks, one of which it seemed had spilled onto the discarded papers.

And then came the maker of the mess, emerging from the bedroom with a towel in one hand and poptart in the other. He froze when he saw her, cheeks coloring just a touch.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I called out of work. Well, texted.”

“Right,” he said, making for the table and plopping the towel into the small puddle. “This is just water, by the way. I might have tripped on the blanket.”

She nodded slightly, attention caught not on the drink, or even his eyes, but rather on his wrist, where a black band held in place a diamond encrusted face.

He was wearing her watch.

“Isn’t that mine?” The question came stumbling out before she could stop it, but to his credit, he just continued swiping at the table, giving a shrug and a one word answer.

“Maybe.”

Reaching into her coat, she pulled out his watch, holding it out until he caught sight of it, then fastening it to her wrist.

“That’s… fair.” And that smile, that smile felt like it could light her spirits for the next century to come.

There was a reason, she was sure, and it would probably be for the best to figure out the who, how, and why sooner rather than later. But for now, maybe this was all the reason she needed.


End file.
